


Walk A Mile

by Quailpower



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Dean Winchester, Body Swap, Bunker Fic, Bunker central, Canon Divergence, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Freaky Friday Supernatural, Human Castiel, Human Sam Winchester, Nephilim, One Shot, Supernatural - Freeform, Winchesters - Freeform, body switch, nephil, no ships, season 13, ship free - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 10:29:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12885939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quailpower/pseuds/Quailpower
Summary: Season 13 canon divergence. Because what Supernatural really needs this season is some body-swap drama!This is going to be a short fic, more like a oneshot, but chaptered because I am lazy.





	Walk A Mile

Jack was not happy. He had been scanning for cases, but the escalating noise meant that he had read the current article several times and was still none the wiser. Dean and Castiel were having a raging ‘disagreement’. Sam refused to call it and argument, and advised that it was best to stay under the radar until they both calmed down. That had been going well up until Dean had angrily jibed and cajoled Sam into participating. This had not gone in Dean’s favour. So now the younger Winchester was seated at the table, face twitching between dissaproval and annoyance. Castiel was stood leaning heavily on the back of one chairs, glaring at  a space three inches above Dean’s face.

“For the last time, it’s not just a stupid idea, It’s fucking insane. You are insane; if you think for one second we are going to work with that asshole.”

“I just think that, logically-” Cas’ sounded tired..

“Oh, logically!” Dean echoed him, in a falsetto voice, throwing up his arms for effect. Cas’ brow twitched and there was an ominous creaking sound from the chair as his knuckles whitened.

“Look, guys. Let’s shelve this for now, we’re getting nowhere.”

“No, Sam. We are not ‘shelving this’. It is not happening. We are not entertaining the idea of working with the Prince of freaking Darkness himself. No way.” Sam sighed, smoothing out the pages of the book in front of him.

“Look I’m not happy about it either, but we shouldn't just dismiss the idea. He’s powered down, surely with some precautions-”

“Powered down? Powered down?!” Dean slammed his hands on the table as he rose, viciously kicking at his chair. “My mistake; here, let me get the welcome mat. We don't even know what that means for him. What happens when he’s all charged up again? Hm? How do we even know this isn't just some kind of con to get us to let our guard down?!” Dean was gesticulating wildly now, pacing and rubbing at his stubble. Castiel sighed. He rolled his eyes heavenward, seeking strength, and possibly for some patience to boot. Jack tried to sink lower and lower into his chair, wondering if he could safely teleport without causing a scene. He screwed his eyes shut; taking deep, supposedly calming breaths.

“Dean, Cas said that Lucifer couldn’t fight off a handful of angels; nevermind Asmodeus. Do you really think he’d suffer that indignity as part of some game?”

“Absolutely. He’s been in Cas’ head Sam, and yours. He knows exactly how to play you two. You really want this to be another Alexander Ketch story, hook hm?” He snapped. Sam flushed. The muscles in his jaw flexed for a moment. Wordlessly, he rose from his chair and padded off into the kitchen, without sparing a second glance to his brother. Dean threw up his hands in silent exasperation.

“Nicely done,” Cas observed dryly.

“Don’t you fucking start,”

“Or what, Dean?” he turned from the chair to advance into the hunter’s space, “You can’t shout or punch your way out of any situation you don’t like.”

“Oh that’s rich coming from you, Mister runs-away-every-chance-he-gets,” Dean and Castiel were shouting over each other now, words hardly decipherable. The sound of banging crockery could be heard echoing from the kitchen.

“Shut up! Would everyone just, please, SHUT UP!” Jack’s eyes glowed. Both Dean and Cas whipped round to face him. But before either of them could even open their mouths, the fell like marionettes with cut strings. There was a clatter from the kitchen. Jack froze, paralyzed by fear. He had been angry and he had done _something_. Again. He rushed over the Cas’ prone form, knees crashing painfully against the wood. His hands shook above the angel, hesitant to touch. What if he made it worse? What if? He pawed at the lapels of Castiel’s trenchcoat, shaking him. He did not stir.

“Castiel, Castiel! Wake up!” he hissed. Cas’ head lolled to one side with the force of his shaking, but he did not wake. He was still breathing and didn't seem to be in any distress. Perhaps he had willed them to sleep, He glanced over at Dean who was similarly sprawled in an awkward position across the floor. Perhaps he had willed them to sleep, with his desire for peace?

“Sam!” He skidded off into the kitchen, smashing into the door frame with the speed of his turning. Sam was half propped up against a cabinet, seeming to have fallen against it heavily enough to leave a dent in the brushed steel. Jack shuffled around him, careful not to step on him. The burner was still lit, though thankfully the pan atop it hadn't boiled over. He flapped his hands ineffectual, desperately trying to remember which of the unhelpfully unlabelled dials shut off the gas. Finally succeeding, he carefully slipped the pan towards the back burner and dropped to Sam’s side.

After several moments trying to shuffle the larger man into a more manageable position, he sighed in exasperation. He wriggled one arm behind Sam and another under the crux of his knees. It was probably the most wobbly, undignified, bridal carries in the history of man; but it served it’s purpose. He carefully seated Sam in one of the plush arm chairs in the corner of the library; meticulously checking and adjusting his position so he wouldn’t slip. A stray hand brushed the hair from his face. Jack watched Sam anxiously, allowing the feelings of worry and guilt to overtake him again. Frowning, he shuffled off into the wings to retrieve some blankets. He curled a soft hand under Castiel’s neck, lifting his head to place one of the folded blankets beneath. He was rewarded with two hands curling into his shirt and flipping him sharply onto his back.

The familiar face of Castiel hovered above him, but it was all wrong. The features were too pinched and tense. The look of barely concealed rage faded into recognition.

“Jack?” he rasped. Even his voice sounded wrong. “What happened? What did you-” he stopped, abruptly. Staring at the figure of Dean on the floor beside him. He pushed Jack away from him, roughly. Cas rumbled in his throat and seemed surprised at the sound. He looked from Jack back to Dean.

“Whhhat the-” the angel’s face had gone slack now. His hand drifted to run through his hair. This inconsequential gesture; that Jack had seen Cas make hundreds of times; seemed to break whatever stupor had taken hold of him. A small, very un-Castiel-like gasp escaped him and he looked at his own hands in horror.

“No no no no no, this, this is not happening.” He half scuttled, half stumbled over to Dean. He shook the elder Winchester roughly, causing his head to bump unceremoniously against the wood.

Jack was frantic now. He had never seen Castiel like this. He was frantic, scared even. His chest ached where Cas had shoved him. This, hurt more than anything he had ever felt. That loving, soft hands that had never touched him in anything but kindness, could turn so easily.

“Wake up, dammit!” Cas barked, making him flinch. There was a buzz of power and Dean jerked upright, gasping as if he had been plugged into an electrical outlet. His eyes flashed from Jack to Castiel.

“Jack, Cas, what's going on? Is everyone alright?” He said, softly. His green eyes lingered on Jack's distraught face. Castiel had frozen when Dean said his name. He scrutinised every inch the hunter’s face.

“Sam?”

“Yes?” He face twisted in confusion, brows pinched. Finally his eyes landed on Sam's huddled shape in the armchair. His mouth opened and closed, attempting to frame a question.

“Cas, why is there two of me?”

“Guess again.” the angel sighed, rocking back his heels and scrubbing his hand over his face. He looked over at the still sleeping Sam-shape and sighed.

“Dean?” He sputtered, as if he was expecting this to be some kind of joke. The Dean/Castiel hummed in,confirmation. He watched mildly as Sam patted down,his pockets, searching for a phone. If he concentrated he could see Sam’s mannerisms - the upturned brow, stooped shoulders and tight jaw - painted over his own familiar face. It was all kinds of disturbing. Seeing a doppleganger was odd enough, but Sam wearing his,face was some next level shit.

Finally Sam/Dean managed to wrangle Dean's phone out of his back pocket and held up the dark screen like a mirror. He made a small, horrified sound. Dean snapped his head round.

“Urgh?! What do you mean urgh? That's my face asshole,”

“Erm, guys? What's going on?” They both turned to look at Jack. He was watching them both with wide, slightly frantic eyes.

“Welcome to freaky friday, Winchester edition, kid. I'm assuming all this was you,” he gestured between himself and the two Winchester's.

“I didn't mean to. It just happened-” Dean held up his hands, placatingly. Sam pulled his knees up, resting his arms on them and winching at the loud popping sound they made. He tried to give Jack an encouraging smile, but coming from Dean's face, it just seemed to unnerve him.

“Alright, Alright. No harm, no foul. Just switch us back and we can pretend this ever happened.” There was a heavy pause. Sam grimaced preemptively, knowing what was coming next.

“I don't know how. I don't even know how I did it,” he said, sadly, looking down. Dean groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. .

“Great. Well then, let's wake sleeping beauty over there and ask him.” He pointed at Sam's body “I'm assuming Cas is in there? You didn't just poof him off somewhere?” Jack fiddled with his cuffs.

“Someone is in there, I’d know if there wasn't,”

“Great.” Dean brushed past the nephil and clapped him heavily on the shoulder. The non-verbal, ‘dont worry about it’ didn't seem to help. Dean crossed over to where Castiel was still sleeping. He crouched down gingerly and seemed pleasantly surprised when nothing clicked, popped or complained. He shook the angel, calling his name softly. Now that Dean's attention was elsewhere, Sam shuffled over to sit next to Jack.

“You OK, Jack?” He said, in an undertone.

“Yeah, yeah I'm fine.” The young boy dropped his gaze “I'm sorry,” he mumbled. Sam sighed. It wasn't the exasperated sighs Jack was used to hearing from Dean; it was soft and a little mournful.

“Look, Jack. It's not your fault. It's gonna take time before you can get everything under control. We’ll figure this out in no time. Even Dean said it, no harm done.” He reached out and laid a gentle hand on Jack's shoulder. “Truth is, we're the ones who should be apologising. No one likes seeing their family fight.” There was a scornful huff from Dean. Sam, correctly interpreting this as ‘I ain't apologising for shit’, glowered at his back. There was a groan from Castiel.

"Why do I feel like I'm dying?"


End file.
